Mountain Laurel (2 page)

Using every ounce of her ire, Laurel cranked the jack like there was no tomorrow and soon had all four tires on the ground. Holding tight to the cold steel of the tire iron, she dragged the jack from under the car with her free hand and straightened.

"Excuse me," she snapped as she stepped between them on her way to dump the jack into the trunk. Returning for the flat tire, she none too politely refused the man's offer to help.

"If you help her," Ginny jeered, "she won't be able to hold this over my head. And believe me, she will!"

Prickling, Laurel watched the laughing dark eyes of the man as he shared the joke with Ginny. In her haste to leave, she had put the jack in lopsided, which kept the tire from sitting properly. Frustrated, she pounded on the false bottom that covered the tire, trying to get it to lie flat. Whirling around, Laurel snapped at Ginny, "You'll have to reload the suitcases. My hands are filthy."

"Now I, unlike my dear sister, would never turn down an offer of help."

The teen's eyes glittered as she spoke to Michael, and he was relieved to finally get a chance to assist. He'd had to stuff his hands deep into his pockets to squelch the urge to interfere when the improperly placed jack had caused so much trouble. But instinct had told him standing back would be wiser than possibly being thumped on the head with a tire iron.

Laurel moved out of the way and watched her sister and the stranger pack the cases into the trunk. She noticed the man carefully arrange them around the off-kilter false bottom and felt heat rise up her neck to scorch her cheeks. Maybe she had been silly for being afraid. It was obvious he wanted to help. She watched his dark eyes dance and sparkle with humor. Now that her fear had abated a bit, the joking and laughter he shared with Ginny seemed warm and genuine, and Laurel liked the sound of it. He did need a shave, but she liked the way the sun glinted off his sleek brown hair, and the way the muscles of his tanned forearms rippled as he lifted the...

What was she thinking? Laurel blinked, mentally shaking herself. The guy could be an ax murderer for all she knew, and she was standing here admiring his muscles! She started when he slammed the trunk's lid, his gaze suddenly connecting with hers. The conflicting emotions warring inside her caused another rush of heat to flush her face and neck.

"Would you mind if I made a suggestion?" he asked.

"Of course not," she replied grudgingly.

"There's a service station about fifteen miles up the road. I think you should stop and have the attendant check the tire. He'll tighten the lug nuts with air compression and he might be able to plug the flat."

"Thanks, but we won't be going that far." Laurel was pleased with her flippancy and motioned their departure to Ginny with a jerk of her head. She spun around and walked along the side of the car. The man's stare on her back caused a tingling sensation to travel up her spine.

"One more suggestion?"

His quiet voice forced her to turn once again in his direction. Laurel flashed him a mockingly patient look and waited.

"Dust off your bottom before you get in."

Ginny giggled before disappearing into the car and slamming her door shut. Laurel fixed him with a burning glare of disgust before pulling open her own door and slipping into her seat, and it took every bit of willpower she possessed not to brush off her rear before doing so.

"I don't think it's all that funny," Laurel growled at her sister. Her scowl deepened as she caught sight of the man in the rear-view mirror still wearing that irritating grin.

Michael shook his head as he watched the car drive away. He shouldn't have teased her, but he'd become aggravated knowing she would probably let her pride get in the way of her safety. He knew she would pass the gas station and hoped she had sense enough to stop. She must have a lousy sense of direction and distance, because the only thing between the overlook and the station was the cabin he rented to his cousin Jim.

~ ~ ~

Steam filled the tiny bathroom as hot water beat down on Laurel's back. The steady spray slowly washed away her tension. She was sorry for yelling at Ginny while they were driving to the cabin. They hadn't been in the car two seconds after the tire incident before her tirade had started. The fatigue she'd felt was no excuse for the bitter words she'd spat at Ginny.

"I can't believe your behavior!" Laurel had barely contained the impulse to hit the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. "You're not a kid any more. You're almost eighteen years old. You should know better. That man could have been an escaped convict, a thief, a rapist! At best he was some dirty vagrant stopping with the hopes of getting a few bucks off two fluttery females."

Ginny had opened her mouth to protest, but whatever she'd been about to say had been crushed by Laurel's continued onslaught.

"Did you see that dilapidated truck?" Her eyebrows had shot up toward her hairline. "Did you notice the fact that there was a gun hanging in the back window?" Laurel had sucked in an angry breath. "Is it too much to ask for you to use a little common sense? Just a little!" That time she had hit the steering wheel with force enough to bruise her hand.

"Are you ever going to grow up?" Her words had been husky with exasperation. "Don't you know it's not safe to flirt with a complete stranger?"

Ginny had lifted her chin stubbornly. "I wasn't flirting. And it was you he was gawking at! Jeez, the man practically drooled!"

Laurel had been floored. And even though more than four hours had passed since their narrow escape, she was still stunned. The needles of steaming water didn't provide enough heat to stop Laurel's involuntary shiver as she thought of being ogled by that degenerate when her back was turned. They'd been lucky to get away from him unharmed. And to think she had admired him! Pushing the frightening thoughts from her mind, she lifted her face to the hot spray.

Think of pleasant things
, she chided herself.

She sighed, shoving the ugliness from her mind. Then she remembered Ginny's dismay when they had driven up the narrow dirt lane on Spring Mountain to find that Jim's house was a small rustic cottage, and she smiled. Laurel's own trepidation had vanished when she'd discovered that the tiny log cabin had all the comforts of home. Plus a few added attractions.

She grinned as she remembered the mouse that had sent Ginny into hysterics. Calming her had been a feat in itself. Finally, Laurel had clapped the car keys into her hand, gave her hasty directions and thrust her out the door with orders to bring a pizza home for dinner. She had promised Ginny the mouse would be gone before she returned. Catching it hadn't been easy.

Laurel considered spending another minute or two under the deliciously hot spray, then reluctantly turned the porcelain handle, knowing Ginny wouldn't appreciate having to take a cold shower. She pulled back the curtain, plucked a fluffy white towel off the bar and wrapped her hair, turban-style. Contentment spread through her relaxed muscles.

She knew that she'd done the right thing. Ginny was away from the hooligans she'd been running around with back home. The two of them had the opportunity to get close again, to talk. Laurel would make Ginny see the need to go to college and do something with her life.

The front door opened and closed. As Laurel tucked another towel around her body and secured it under her arm, she wondered how Ginny could have gotten back so quickly, then realized she must have forgotten to take money.

"Hey! You in there?" The loud rap on the bathroom door caused every muscle in Laurel's body to clench. But what chilled her blood was recognizing the deep male voice.

Chapter Two

O
h, God! It was him. He'd followed them. He must have lurked in the bushes until Ginny left. And now he's in the house!

Panic flooded through her body, through her brain, making it difficult to move, difficult to think. Her mouth felt dry as dust and she swallowed painfully. Through the haze of hysteria one thought streamed in her mind: lock the door! She pushed the button of the flimsy lock. The click echoed loudly in the utter stillness.

"Hey!" Excitement turned his voice insistent.

Turning, she scanned the room for a weapon. She wouldn't let him get her without a fight. Brush. Mirror. Mascara. Nothing heavy enough to hurt a man. Laurel had never been so frightened in her life. Frantically, she looked around the tiny bathroom. Her eyes lit on the window high above the toilet. Would it be possible? It was small, the type where the glass moved out and up as it was cranked open.

She quickly glanced down at her towel-clad body and decided she couldn't possibly escape stark naked! Seeing a discarded outfit that Ginny had wadded up and tossed into a corner, Laurel was grateful for her sister's usually infuriating habit of changing clothes three times a day. Laurel pulled the lime-green sweater over her head and, after pushing one arm through, noticed it was inside out. This is no time to be chic, she thought, shoving her other arm into the soft knitted material.

"Open up!"

Laurel's eyes darted to the door in time to see the knob jiggle violently. Thrusting one foot, then the other, into a pair of rumpled culottes, she had to suck in her breath and shimmy them over her hips. They were tight, but they'd work. She scooped up one crew sock and pulled it on, the sock's heel protruding awkwardly over her ankle. The two sharp raps that sounded against the door forced her to leave her other foot bare.

Not losing another second, she stood on the toilet seat lid, cranked open the window and punched out the screen. It would be a tight fit, but it was the only way out. Tiny bug carcasses crunched under her palms when she placed her hands on the sill, but she barely noticed. She pulled with all her might. The shiny pine paneling was slick and she slipped twice, both times her knee banged painfully into the wall. She squealed when, in her thrashing to get up to the window, her foot hit the hand mirror, sending it crashing to the floor.

"What the devil is going on in there? Open this door!" Angry bangs vibrated in the room.

Sweat broke out on her forehead and upper lip. Pulling with all her might, she hoisted herself up to the window. Tears of fear and frustration blurred her vision and her arms quivered from exertion. Her head and shoulders were through the opening, but she could no longer reach the porcelain tank with her feet, so she lost her leverage point. Shifting her torso one way, then the other, she inched further out the narrow window.

She heard a great weight crash against the bathroom door
. Oh, God, I'll never make it
, she thought, wriggling more desperately.

The second impact against the door caused the wood to splinter, and Laurel screamed with what little air was left in her lungs. When that was gone, she breathed as deeply as the tiny window opening would allow and screamed again.

After rubbing his shoulder, Michael hit the door a third time. It finally gave way and slammed against the wall.

He stepped into the bathroom, shards of glass crunching under his shoes. "What the hell..."

Seeing the half-clothed, definitely female body squirming half in and half out of the tiny bathroom window stopped him in his tracks. Her bloodcurdling screams made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He stood for several seconds, stunned motionless. What the heck was he supposed to do?

The screeching finally ceased. He watched as the wiggling stopped and one satiny leg stretched down. The toes of the one bare foot were a scant two inches from reaching the toilet tank. He considered grasping the slim ankles and guiding them down but quickly rejected the notion to touch the intruder.

Michael turned and strode out of the bathroom and out of the front door. He rounded the corner of the house to where the body protruded from the window.

The woman's head was draped in a towel that covered her face. Reaching up, he snatched it off and was rewarded with another scream.

"Don't you touch me! Don't you come near me!" She furiously brushed at the wet hair plastered against her forehead and cheeks.

Michael's eyes widened. It was the woman from the car. Laurel. But what in the world was she doing here?

"I mean it!" She twisted, hitting her elbow against the heavy logs on the outside of the cabin. Her sharp intake of breath knocked him out of his shocked silence.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Don't you come near me!" Her voice sounded deadly intense.

"Look," he said, "you're obviously in trouble up there. Let me help you."